


Copenhagen, 13:00 Hawai’i, 01:00

by Lacerta26



Series: Appropriate Workplace Relationships [3]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, mention of Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Roxy Morton | Lancelot, mention of threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: Harry Hart is not so smitten as to be unable to say no occasionally. Besides it makes saying yes all the sweeter the next time. He steels himself and says firmly, ‘no Eggsy, not today.’Or Eggsy asks Harry for a threesome.





	Copenhagen, 13:00 Hawai’i, 01:00

‘What time is it where you are?’ asks Eggsy, sounding distant and Harry thinks he can almost hear a tropical soundtrack down the phone, surrounding Eggsy with muggy heat and the noise of the ocean.

‘Just past 1pm, you?’ 

‘One in the morning, just gone, but you knew that, don’t pretend. Don’t seem fair you know where I am but won’t tell me where you are.’

‘You should be asleep. And your mission is not classified only intel gathering,’ Harry replies, smiling, ‘there are protocols for a reason.’

‘Fuck off,’ says Eggsy but Harry can hear the laughter in his voice, ‘It’s too hot to sleep. Hawai’i is rubbish. Without you,’ a pause, ‘you must be in Europe then if it’s only the afternoon.’

Harry doesn’t say anything. Eggsy seems to be waiting and then tries a different tack, ‘so what are you wearing?’ 

Harry laughs properly at that, ‘a suit, you filthy minded boy. I’m sat outside a café, with a lovely latté, watching the world go by.’

Eggsy hums and sighs, breathy, obviously aiming for provocative, ‘I’m not wearing anything.’ 

‘Aren’t you, that’s nice.’

‘What would you do if you were here?’

‘I was thinking I might take a walk later. There are some wonderful art galleries and I don’t think I’ll be called on to kill anyone until tomorrow.’

‘Harry,’ says Eggsy, voice rising on a whine, ‘play along, come on.’

Never let it be said that Harry Hart is not a man of the world but before Eggsy he was single for a long time and he’s pretty sure the last time he was sleeping with anyone regularly enough to indulge in phone sex they’d’ve had to use a landline. Not even a cordless one either. And now here’s Eggsy naked, lying in a Hawai’ian hotel room, mobile cradled to his ear, enticing Harry to talk dirty while he watches tourists pose in front of Hans Christian Anderson’s house. Goddammit he wants to. What would the Little Mermaid say? She gave up her voice for a man so it’s possible she’d tell him to stop dicking about, get back to his hotel room and give his boy what he wants. Via a series of elaborate gestures, what with her being sans voice, obviously.

Unfortunately, he has also promised himself not to give in so easily to Eggsy. Merlin is already becoming intolerable with pointed comments about Harry being ‘wrapped around that lad’s little finger’ and sending memos addressed to _Harry Unwin._ Ridiculous, they’d at least go double barrelled. No, Harry Hart is not so smitten as to be unable to say no occasionally. Besides it makes saying yes all the sweeter the next time. He steels himself and says firmly, ‘no Eggsy, not today.’

The problem is Eggsy likes a firm hand just as much as willing supplication. He moans down the phone at Harry from half a world away, ‘whatever you say, Harry,’ and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to ignore the breathy uptick in the way Eggsy says his name, smiling blandly at a woman passing by with her dog instead of, say, dashing to the nearest public conveniences. That’s just it, in whatever this is, which Harry has deliberately left unnamed and Merlin would call a marriage, ground is gained and lost by turns. The easy, fond antagonism of their early association morphing into an endless game of give and take, control wrested between them in bed or out of it. Even when he’s losing Harry can’t bring himself to care much, especially when it feels so much like winning.

He attempts to distract himself, and Eggsy, by saying, ‘did you know the pavements in Helsinki are heated in the winter to prevent snow settling?’ An attempt to level the playing field at the very least.

‘Ha! Merlin’s gonna kill you for telling me where you are,’ crows Eggsy, delighted. Then his voice drops again, taking no prisoners, ‘so, if you don’t wanna talk dirty with me did you at least think some more about what we was texting about when I was in France?’

Ah, he’s been played then and if he’s going to lose this one he’s absolutely not going down without a fight.

‘Hmm, I forget, what _were_ we texting about?’ he asks, butter wouldn’t melt.

He hears Eggsy roll his eyes. This is going to be fun. ‘I was asking,’ says Eggsy, voice going soft like he’s unsure, but Harry knows it’s all part of the ploy, ‘if you’d ever had a threesome?’ 

He lets a pause stretch beyond comfortable, ‘Oh, in 1983 or so, I think. I don’t really recall the details.’

‘Who was it with?’

‘My roommate at Cambridge and his girlfriend I believe it was,’ he makes his voice go all wistful and briefly realises Eggsy has trapped him into phone sex after all. Keep it pre-watershed, Hart, don’t get drawn in. 

‘Riiight and what were the logistics of that exactly?’ Eggsy drawls and how on earth does one make the word logistics sound dirty? He’s never going to be able to hear Merlin uttering it without blushing now.

‘He was rather interested in exploring sex with men and I don’t generally sleep with women so I’m sure you can work it out.’

‘Mmm hmm,’ says Eggsy, low in his throat, the little shit.

‘I’ve barely said anything. Are you getting off on even this you tart?’ Harry’s going to shag himself into an early grave if he carries on entertaining the whims of this ridiculous 25-year-old he’s somehow seduced into bed. Although, if he’s being honest it wasn’t him doing the seducing and there _are_ worse ways to go.

‘Yeah, Harry, love it when you talk to me, always.’ 

Right then, evasion won’t work, time to fight fire with fire. He lets his voice go quiet in the way he knows Eggsy likes and says, ‘have _you_ ever indulged in a ménage à trois?’

‘No, Harry, not had the chance yet,’ says Eggsy, his breath coming in tiny pants like he’s trying hard to be subtle, breathing through his nose as he strokes his cock in paradise, thousands of miles from where Harry can reach him, touch him.

‘Let me hear you darling,’ says Harry, his own dick fattening nicely in his trousers, tempered only by his proximity to the general public.

‘Fuck, I already told you, text you.’ 

‘I’d like to hear you say it. Tell me.’

‘It’s hot ain’t it? An extra pair of hands. Another mouth. Gettin’ all tangled up with each other, sweaty and – shit –,’ he moans, ‘havin’ all that focus on you – or teaming up with someone to give – fuck – pleasure…’

‘Most of the things three people can do can be accomplished with two and a little creativity.’

‘That’s not the same.’ Eggsy says, like Harry’s an idiot, even as he gets more worked up, ‘You’re inviting someone in, lettin’ them see who we are in private, like.’ 

’So, who exactly did you have in mind?’ he knows the answer, also knows he’s going to have to disappoint but that’s the game, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and at least he can get Eggsy off from, he does the maths, 7164 miles away, give or take. 

‘Shit, Harry, Roxy, I’d want it to be Roxy,’ Harry can hear the wet slide of Eggsy’s hand on his dick now, all pretence gone, breathing hard.

'What would you have us do?’

‘I dunno, have to ask Rox. I could fuck her while you fuck me or I could go down on her or – anything, can we, Harry, what do you think?’

‘Ask me nicely,’ and that seems to be it for Eggsy whose whine of, ‘please,’ is lost to a long groan as he comes, gasping down the phone. Match point to Harry.

He coughs, adjusts his tie, takes a sip of water, waits for Eggsy’s breathing to slow. Eggsy seems to come back to himself by degrees, like coming up from a deep dive, a delighted bubble of laughter down the phone, ‘fuck, Harry, that were good. Are you really just sat at a café in bloody Finland? Bet you’ve not got a hair out of place you bastard.’

‘Correctly surmised but I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.’

‘Can we then? Ask Roxy for a threesome?’ Ah, shit. This suddenly doesn’t feel like winning any more. He can picture Eggsy’s bright face, recently sated, shining with expectation and now Harry is going to have to dash his hopes.

He closes his eyes first, tries to picture it, the three of them in his and Eggsy’s bed at home. He keeps slipping out of the picture thinking of Eggsy, toned and golden, laughing with Roxanne as they kiss. Two perfect specimens of youthful enthusiasm for Harry to enjoy. The rush of jealousy he expects to feel at the thought is assuaged by the certainty that Eggsy will always come home to him as promised. Eggsy and Roxanne are close, the youngest in an organisation of old farts, but while they care for each other deeply Harry is sure their feelings in this regard are purely aesthetic and experiential. They’re young, they want to experience and enjoy life where they can, given they face the certainty of death more regularly than a pair of 25-year-olds ought to.

‘As titillating as this conversation has been and as beautiful as Roxanne undoubtedly is you know I don’t sleep with women.’

‘I know Harry,’ says Eggsy, sadly, but like he never though he’d get any other answer, ‘thanks for indulging me though, eh?’

Harry lets himself fall into the fantasy a little more, feels his face flush at the image of Roxanne he attempts to conjure but it’s not wholly unpleasant. Anyone would say he’s a lucky bugger to have one gorgeous 25-year-old in his bed, let alone one who’s asking to invite a second gorgeous 25-year-old to join them. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity.

‘I suppose,’ he begins carefully, if you and Roxanne were at all interested in doing all the work, so to speak, I could be convinced of the value of voyeurism. As I recall the pair of you aced your fitness and endurance tests last month. It would be wonderful to see that – stamina – put to more pleasurable use.’

‘Are you sure, Harry, you don’t have to just for me. It’s silly really, only a fantasy,’ doubt colours Eggsy’s tone like he thinks he might have crossed a line. It’s these moments where Harry feels keenly the difference in their life experiences. Whether its age or privilege or entitlement Harry does not spend much time feeling uncertain.

‘Darling boy, I’m perfectly capable of saying no if I don’t want to do something.’ There’s irony in that, for all Eggsy’s stubbornness and his indulgence of the boy, they push each other, expand each other’s horizons in every direction, give in too easily and fight too hard, say yes on  a word or a look, in bed or on a mission, but they’ve never steered each other wrong yet. Harry knows he can trust his instincts with Eggsy. He could enjoy this and he knows Eggsy will. And that’s enough.

‘I should think I would be incredibly lucky if you, and Roxanne, would do this for me. If you think you would enjoy it? 

‘Fuck yeah. I’ll ask Rox. And I’ll see you when you get back, enjoy Copenhagen, yeah?’

‘How…?!’ Harry splutters but he’s already hearing silence at the other end of the line. 

Yes, Harry concedes to himself, it is much more gratifying when they end with a draw.


End file.
